Captive
by actingwithportals
Summary: Day fifteen of my thirty-one day writing challenge. Jack's first encounter with the Refuge


He had run so fast, and for so long, but it wasn't enough. They had finally caught up with him. Jack was cornered, nowhere to turn, as the bulls closed in. He tried to slip past them, underneath their legs (he was small, after all), but was grabbed firmly by the arm, the loafs of bread he was holding dropping to the ground. He just wanted food; it had been a hard week, not only for him but the rest of the newsies as well. They were all starving, but none of them were brave enough to do the unthinkable. That is, none except for Jack.

But look where it got him, screaming and kicking as he was dragged away. He knew where they were taking him, and he wasn't about to go quietly. He pulled one of the arms that was holding him to his mouth and bit down hard, tasting blood. The man screamed, striking hard at Jack's face. He saw stars, immediately releasing the man's arm from his bite. The world seemed to go black for a moment, but he wasn't done yet. He continued to struggle, pulling at his arms and kicking with his feet as strongly as he could. He tried crying for help, but no one paid him any heed. No one would save him now, not when the police were involved. He made a final hopeless attempt at escape, squirming hard in their grasp and screaming as loud as he could. He vaguely heard one of the men say something about shutting him up, and the next thing he knew something struck him against the back of his head, and the world went black.

* * *

All concept of time was lost. Jack couldn't remember the last time he had stepped outside, breathed fresh air. There was nothing but dirty walls and the vile smell of vermin. Every day was get up at sunrise, and work indoors till sunset. Every day Jack found new ways to defy his captors, finding no other pleasure than to make their lives as miserable as possible. And every day he was caught, he paid dearly for it.

One day, his mischief took him too far. He knew he was overstepping, he knew it would get him into a load of trouble, but the thought of getting under the warden's skin was too good to pass up. Jack had planned this out carefully, stealing away from the room in the middle of the night and making his way to the room where warden Snyder slept. It was a difficult task, and several times Jack was afraid he would wake him, but before long he found everything he came for, and immediately set to work.

It took him most of the night, but when morning time came it was worth it. When everyone arrived downstairs, it was impossible not see several large pairs of undergarments, hanging in various places along the ceiling in the main hall.

The reaction was everything Jack had wanted, leaving all the boys howling in fits of laughter, and watching as every official in the place looked on with shock and anger. The greatest reaction of all was that of warden Snyder's, his face beet red with anger and embarrassment.

It would have been perfect, too, if it hadn't been an easy assumption to guess who was behind the prank. There were no questions asked or trial given. Jack was simply taken away to a dark room, and made to pay dearly for his actions.

He was eleven, only eleven years old. But that didn't matter to adults. It didn't matter that he was young, and starving, and desperate to go back home to his family, to the other newsies. All that mattered was that he acted out of line, and that he suffered for what he did, all in the name of 'educating' him.

Sleep didn't come that night; he was too uncomfortable, every part of him throbbing with pain. It was too cramped in those bunks, having to share with two other boys (both of which kicked in their sleep). Jack couldn't take it any longer; he had to get out of there. If he didn't get out soon, he wasn't sure how much longer he would survive. Perhaps he was being over dramatic, but at this point it felt like life and death were on the line, and he wasn't going to sit down and take it.

He looked for every opportunity to escape, even considering tying a sheet from the window and sneaking out that way. But the bars on the windows simply wouldn't budge, another plan gone down the drain. He'd thought about stealing away in the night, but the doors were all locked from the inside. There was no way out of this place; he was a captive, living in hell on earth.

That is, until one day the perfect opportunity came. Some big shot was coming by the Refuge, probably for some political statement about caring about poor orphan children. Whatever the reason, Jack didn't care. He was taking this opportunity to get out, at any cost.

They were asked to line up outside, preparing to take a photo. The warden was too distracted with their guest, shaking his hand and trying to make a good impression. Any other official that should have been watching over the boys were too mesmerized by the photographer and the presence of such a high-ranking politician in their midst. It was almost too easy for Jack to slip away, barely making a sound as he snuck behind the line of boys, dashing for the nearby carriage. He slipped inside, crawling into the back and hiding under the seat. It was hot, but Jack waited patiently for what felt like an hour before the carriage took off.

Jack didn't dare take a peak, simply imagining the sight of the Refuge disappearing around him. He was free, he was going to escape. A captive no more. And he would be damned if he ever stepped foot inside those walls again.

He had learned something, though. He learned the true nature of those older than himself. That they were cruel, and unkind, and without love and compassion. He couldn't ever depend on someone older looking out for him. From now on, he would look after himself, daring to trust no one.

It was him against the world, now, and no one would ever tell him otherwise.


End file.
